


Warm Blood

by Zee



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, M/M, Making Out, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8478121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: A rumor gets started at an RFA party that Jumin Han is a vampire. This pisses Zen off.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rating to go up in later chapters! The title is the song 'Warm Blood' by Carly Rae Jepsen.

It is a very silly rumor. It originates at a party, of course, and Jumin doesn’t know who’s responsible for starting it (he suspects 707, but there’s no proof), but he would like to hold whoever it is accountable for the considerable irritation they’ve caused him. It’s not enough, apparently, that Jumin is plagued by recurring rumors regarding his sexuality; why must such childishness expand to fantastical creatures? Even though Jumin himself pays nonsensical rumors about himself no mind, he’s still forced to field questions about them, which means they take up valuable time and resources that he could be spending on company ventures.

Assistant Kang, who has heard this rant many times, purses her lips and tightens her grip on her glass of wine. “You are not going to have to field questions from reporters about vampirism.”

“Just because it’s unlikely doesn’t make it impossible,” Jumin says. “There are reporters here tonight. I’m not sure any topic is beneath them.”

“Mm.” She adjusts her glasses and takes a gulp of wine, searching out the room for Zen and only half-listening to Jumin’s point. Which is fine: Jumin does not require her to sympathize with him at all times, but he would have thought she’d agree with him about this. Assistant Kang usually shares his low opinion of childish flights of fantasy and pointless jokes.

Perhaps she is deflecting this conversation topic because she’s aware of her unwitting responsibility in starting this rumor--or at least, her role in directing the rumor towards Jumin. It hadn’t started that way. It had been more generalized at first, the suggestion that “someone” in the RFA was a vampire, not Jumin specifically. 

Jumin had first heard about it from Yoosung, although he very much doubted that Yoosung was clever enough to have come up with it himself. He had been discussing his to-do list with Assistant Kang when Yoosung had materialized, out-of-breath with shining eyes as if he’d been running around like an excited child. He probably had.

“Oh my god! Have you guys heard?” Assistant Kang indulged him, leaning in so Yoosung could whisper conspiratorially. Jumin kept his distance, so he only heard the tail-end: “....a _vampire_ here.”

“A what?” Jumin knows better than to get dragged into something Yoosung is excited about, but he’d engaged anyway, to his regret. 

Yoosung clutched at Jumin’s forearm. “A vampire!! At the party! People are even saying--” Yoosung’s voice went low and quiet, and beside him Assistant Kang’s mouth twitched in a smile, like she found him endearing. Jumin rolled his eyes. “--that the vampire helped plan the party, meaning that he would have to be a member of the RFA.”

Jumin opened his mouth to point out that vampires were not real, but Assistant Kang was already speaking. “‘He’? There are two women in the RFA.”  
“Yeah, but you and MC aren’t vampires,” Yoosung said, like he was pointing out something very obvious.

“Why is it less likely for us to be vampires than for any of the male RFA members?” Assistant Kang arched an eyebrow, staring Yoosung down as she took another gulp of wine. The alcohol was probably the cause of her indulging in this conversation topic; she seemed to be pointedly ignoring Jumin frowning at her over Yoosung’s shoulder. 

“I think I’d know if my girlfriend was a vampire,” Yoosung said, giggling. “And you…. I don’t know! Why would a vampire be an assistant?”

“This is a pointless debate,” Jumin had said, and was ignored. 

“Vampires never have to work, or if they do work they have mysterious, powerful jobs! Or spooky jobs, I guess,” Yoosung said. “Maybe if you were the assistant to a graveyard manager, or a mortician…”

“By that logic, no one in the RFA could be a vampire. We don’t have any morticians or graveyard managers.”

“Vampires aren’t real,” Jumin had said, to an audience of zero.

“But Seven and V are mysterious! We don’t know anything about what they do.”

“What about Mr. Han? He has a very powerful job. He is arguably more powerful than the rest of us.” Assistant Kang sipped her wine and gave Jumin a thoughtful look. Yoosung looked at him, too. Jumin frowned.

“That’s such a good point! And you look like a vampire, you have long dark hair and pale skin.” Yoosung steepled his fingers in front of his nose, like he was trying to figure something out. 

“I don’t find the particulars of Mr. Han’s job to be particularly mysterious, because I am very familiar with them. But it’s true that he often goes abroad. Sometimes on these business trips I don’t hear from him for many hours at a time, and I rarely find out what he did during that time.” 

Jumin’s awareness of this conversation as being juvenile and senseless did not prevent him from feeling a faint sense of indignation and betrayal. “Am I not allowed privacy? Also, you never ask.”

“Jaehee!” Yoosung’s eyes were comically wide, and Jumin began to wish that MC would materialize--he usually didn’t care to witness their public displays of affection, but he badly wanted Yoosung to be distracted from this topic. “Are you saying that you think Jumin is a vampire?”

“What?” Assistant Kang stiffened and blinked rapidly, as if she’d just come out of this strange hypnosis and realized that Yoosung’s theory was beneath her. “No, of course not. Vampires don’t exist.”

“But if they _did_ exist and there _was_ a vampire inside the RFA, you think it would be Jumin!”

“I did not say that.” Assistant Kang turned faintly red. Jumin had little sympathy for her, and was feeling more indignant and annoyed by the moment. 

Jumin had just opened his mouth to express his disappointment in his fellow RFA members when Zen showed up, which seemed unfairly typical. He’d appeared out of nowhere behind and slightly to the left of Jumin, suddenly standing close enough that his chest bumped against Jumin’s arm. It was inconvenient. 

“What’s this about Jumin?” Zen’s voice was louder than necessary, like he was making a point of wanting everyone to hear him mocking Jumin. He did things like this so often, unnecessarily. All the RFA members would hear him or read his words regardless of how loud, or how obvious or pointed he made his comments. 

“Jumin’s a vampire! Or at least, that’s what the rumor is,” Yoosung said, then winked. Jumin gave in to the urge to rub at his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose. It would be easier to deal with his own aggravation if Zen weren’t so near. 

“Wait--seriously?” Zen had said. And then he’d started laughing. The laughter grew louder, and it didn’t stop. He was laughing so hard that his whole torso was shaking with it, and he was so close (and _why_ did he have to stand so close, and why had Jumin not yet stepped away to a polite distance) that Jumin could feel the vibrations against his back--just slightly. Or perhaps he was imagining that he could. Why did Zen find this so incredibly funny?

“Are you laughing because the rumor is so unrealistic? In that case I agree,” Jumin said, hoping to salvage the situation. 

“Unrealistic? I suppose that’s one way to think of it,” Zen said. Finally he stepped forward so that he was not behind Jumin, although this required him to brush against Jumin’s shoulder, which was uncomfortable, and he had only stepped forward so that he could look down at Jumin and make eye contact with him, which was also unpleasant. “What started all this?”

“Apparently someone at this party started a rumor that there’s a vampire within the RFA,” Assistant Kang said, and hurried to add, “But that is quite silly and not something we should--”

“Jumin’s a vampire!” Yoosung gushed. “Think about it, doesn’t it just make too much sense?”

Jumin glared at Assistant Kang, who avoided his gaze and drank more of her wine. Zen was no longer laughing. Instead he looked almost offended. “No? What are you talking about?”

Jumin did not have to stand around and take this. He had turned and left, assuming that Assistant Kang would follow and join him whenever she started feeling too flustered by Zen’s presence--only a few minutes passed before this happened. Now she is here, listening to the speech Jumin had composed in her brief absence about the negative consequences of this rumor mongering, although to his disappointment she does not seem to agree.

“Did Yoosung go on at length about this rumor and my role in it to Zen?” Jumin asks her. Assistant Kang gives him a measured look, difficult to read.

“He was still going through the factors that make you apparently suspicious when I left. It looks like Seven has joined him now, so I imagine they are just working themselves up further.”

Jumin does not particularly care about anyone else’s analysis of his personality, doesn’t mind that almost no one knows him well. Because of his station in life and his work, other people’s misperceptions are quite inevitable; if he let himself be hurt any time someone looked at him and saw only Corporate Heir or Young Bachelor or, thanks to irresponsible rumors, Gay Man or Vampire, personal happiness would be entirely out of his reach. Jumin has gotten to the point where hiding behind these empty images is easier than bothering to be genuine. 

Still. He can’t feel at ease knowing what the other RFA members are doing right now, discussing what they know of his personality and character and fitting it against stereotypes and saccharine tropes. He doubts that their assessments of him are accurate. Once again he is misunderstood and unknown, even by the people that he considers to be family.

He is relieved when one of the party guests, a member of the Romance Novel Writers’ Guild, approaches him to talk. But he quickly realizes that his hope for a distraction was misplaced. She is already touching him, her hand on his sleeve and her eyes uncomfortably intent on his. “How long have you been twenty-seven?”

Behind the novel writer, Assistant Kang chokes on her wine. Jumin feels the beginning of a headache press behind his eyes, and suppresses his frown with a polite smile. “I beg your pardon?”

The novel writer just leans in closer, and Jumin resists the urge to move back, instead letting her invade his personal space. “ _I know what you are._ ”

Jumin can only stare into her eyes, utterly at a loss. Only his sense of etiquette and his sharp awareness of the importance of keeping the party guests in a good mood keeps him from asking her if she is perhaps high on something. Thankfully, Assistant Kang steps in.

“She is making a _Twilight_ reference. Do you remember the briefing I gave you on that book series in prep for that meeting with the heiress a year ago?” Assistant Kang has managed to position herself beside him in a way that could not possibly be construed by the novel writer as intentionally interruptive, while nonetheless making all three of their positions awkward enough that the novel writer unconsciously moves back, giving Jumin more space. Jumin is torn between his appreciation for her ability to navigate this sort of thing and annoyance that she thinks he might not have remembered an important business briefing.

“Ah, of course,” Jumin says. Then the reference catches up with him, and he can’t help but stiffen. “What… are you trying to imply?”

The romance novel writer has deflated slightly by now, disappointed to be having a conversation with Jumin and his assistant instead of just Jumin. And also, possibly, disappointed that he hadn’t immediately played along, although he’s starting to get the sinking feeling that she is not playing around at all, but is instead quite serious.

“I’ve heard what others at this party have been whispering about. Of course, I and the other guild members are knowledgeable enough to have suspected your true nature long ago, but it seems now that others are catching on.” 

“You’re mistaken,” Jumin says. It’s becoming quite difficult to keep his tone courteous and the novel writer is growing agitated, shaking her head vehemently.

“I know you need to be secretive, but you can trust me! All the writers in the guild are paranormal subject matter experts.” She puts a strange emphasis on the word ‘expert’ and then winks, and this feels far too reminiscent of a forced encounter with a woman angling for a date. 

Which is disappointing. Jumin usually looks forward to these parties as a respite from the unwanted sexual attention he often has to deal with in his position within the company; in the past, party guests had usually been distracted by Rika’s charm, or V’s famous photos, or even Zen’s good looks, not to mention networking with each other. It hadn’t made for an atmosphere where Jumin could completely relax--the only time nothing is expected of him is when he’s home, in the company of Elizabeth 3rd--but he’s never before felt like he has to brace himself for this particular kind of lasciviousness.

“C&R really has no need for paranormal expertise,” Assistant Kang says smoothly. “But I do believe I overheard the Ghosthunting Club asking around for a paranormal expert. I heard that they are expanding their searches to hunting succubi, in addition to just ghosts.”

The novel writer follows the direction of Assistant Kang’s gesture, to where two tall American men in very dingy, cheaply made leather jackets are engrossed in conversation with someone in a trenchcoat. Jumin takes advantage of her distraction to step subtly back.

“Mr. Han, I have been informed that the RFA needs us to consult on some logistical matter for the party,” Assistant Kang says. To the novel writer, she says, “If you’ll excuse us.”

Jumin gives the novel writer a polite nod as he leaves with Assistant Kang. Is it his imagination, or does he feel more people watching him than usual as he moves through the crowd? He’s used to being the object of speculation, but surely no one here other than a few genre novel enthusiasts (and, perhaps, the Ghosthunting Club) thinks he is a _vampire._

“I know that this party does not technically fall within your working hours,” Jumin says as he follows Assistant Kang. “And that therefore your intervention with that woman was not part of your duties as an employee. I suppose thanks are in order.”

He can’t see the look on Assistant Kang’s face since she’s in front of him, but from the slump of her shoulders he can sense that it is probably similar to one of the personalized emojis she uses to express annoyance or exasperation in the messenger. “I simply acted according to my instincts for how to defuse awkward situations. There is no need for thanks.” She pauses, and inclines her head slightly. “But you’re welcome.”

MC had recently begun to wear Jumin down after months of giving him constant, wearying, extremely unsolicited advice regarding his treatment of Assistant Kang. Jumin still does not agree with all of MC’s opinions (opinions which, of course, the rest of the RFA have been quick to rally behind) about what makes for the most ethical and correct employee-boss relationship, but at this point she has been an RFA member for several months and shows no sign of breaking up with Yoosung or quitting the organization, which means that Jumin has to accept her as a long-term presence in his life. Jumin already has one member in the RFA who is turned against him, always ready to think the worst, and he doesn’t want MC to ally herself with Zen against him. It has simply been prudent to occasionally take her suggestions, if that keeps her from holding an unnecessary grudge against him.

And Jumin must admit that Assistant Kang might not have intervened on his behalf with that romance novel writer had he not recently started giving her greater flexibility and considering her needs with the empathetic approach prescribed by MC. Jumin will not be irrational and insist that there are no benefits to utilizing empathy with his employees when the evidence suggests otherwise. _Some_ people seem to be convinced that Jumin is too stubborn to ever change his ways, but if those people ever actually paid attention instead of seeing him as a caricature born of their own prejudices, they would observe that Jumin always keeps an open mind to logical arguments supported by objective facts. 

Jumin stops that train of thought. It never goes anywhere good when he gets caught up in mental arguments with Zen.

Speak of the devil: Assistant Kang has led him right to Seven and Zen, who seem to be having some kind of spirited discussion or perhaps an argument. Zen looks frustrated, and when he turns to see Jumin the scowl on his face deepens. Of course. Jumin knows the expression on his own face is entirely blank when he looks back.

Over the years, Jumin has found that remaining cool and detached when Zen insults him is the only reliable way to keep Zen engaged, the only way to make their relationship feel somewhat balanced and therefore tolerable to Jumin. Every time that Jumin has given an indication that Zen’s remarks bother him, or tried to make Zen see that his vendetta is illogical and that Jumin has never mistreated him, or showed vulnerability in any way, Zen has sneered and scoffed or simply ended their interactions. It’s better to seem detached, or to return Zen’s insults with unemotional barbs of his own. Jumin will take this kind of attention over no relationship at all.

“There’s the man of the hour! Or, no, wait--maybe he’s not a man at all? A creature of the night?” Seven gasps, both of his hands over his mouth and eyes comically wide. Jumin glares at him.

“Did you start this ridiculous rumor?”

Jumin isn’t really expecting a serious answer, but Seven bypasses his question entirely, instead holding up his cross necklace like he’s in some sort of ridiculous movie. “Don’t come any closer!! I’ll have you know I ate a lot of garlic today!”

“I wasn’t planning on coming closer,” Jumin says. He’s going to have such a headache by the time this evening is finished, he knows it. He doesn’t know how to handle Seven even at the most neutral of times, and when Seven has randomly decided to make Jumin the object of some joke or prank--as he clearly has now--Jumin feels particularly lost as to the correct course of action.

Assistance comes from an unexpected corner. Jumin can sense Zen’s annoyance before he speaks: the arms crossed over his chest, the tight set of his shoulders, the annoyed exhale flaring out of his nostrils. His lips pull down at the corners, briefly warping his beautiful face in an uncharitable expression. “Seven, just leave him alone. You know he won’t play along. Besides, don’t you want to find someone who fits the joke better?”

“Are you calling Jaehee a liar?” Seven says, pretending to be aghast. Beside Jumin, Assistant Kang makes a noise of indignation, and Jumin turns away as she starts to lecture Seven.

“What do you mean, someone who fits the joke better?” Jumin knows it’s pointless to ask, knows that he’s opening himself up to a barrage of insults and derision just by engaging Zen. But, as usual, he finds himself pressing the issue regardless.

Zen looks away from Seven and Jaehee’s argument to direct his glare solely at Jumin. He doesn’t answer the question, instead turning on his heel and walking away from the conversation out towards the patio. Jumin considers walking away, perhaps finding Yoosung and MC or letting some other party guest distract him. Zen has walked off like he assumes Jumin will follow, and Jumin doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but he knows that if he abandons Zen now, he’ll spend the rest of the evening going over lost possibilities in his mind. 

Best to just get it over with and find out whatever disappointingly juvenile thing it is that Zen wants to say to him, instead of letting the wheels in his mind spin fruitlessly.

Zen doesn’t turn to face him until they’ve wandered to a somewhat-secluded corner of the balcony, distant enough from the party that everyone’s chatter is muted. He looks defensive, his arms still crossed over his chest and his suit jacket making sharp angles of is shoulders and elbows, radiating aggravation. His eyes flash bright red even in the dim lighting when he looks Jumin’s way; no one else at this party has eyes like that.

“How did the rumor become all about _you_ being a vampire?” Zen says. “Why you, of all people.”

“Ask someone else. I’m as confused as you are,” Jumin says. 

“I’m not asking someone else, I’m asking _you,_ ” Zen says, somewhat snottily. Regretfully, Jumin feels a slight current of electricity run down his spine upon hearing the emphasis Zen places on that last word. Not for the first time, he curses himself for how his body reacts to Zen’s attention. 

“Assistant Kang seemed to think that I made sense as a vampire candidate because my job is powerful, and somewhat mysterious,” Jumin says. “And vampires are supposed to be handsome, are they not? Yoosung mentioned my dark hair and pale skin, so I suppose there’s that as well.” 

Zen’s gaze skitters away, his fingers tightening incrementally where they’re gripping his opposite elbow. “Handsome,” he says, a sneer in his voice. “Right.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, and Jumin has started mentally scrolling through possible other conversation topics, as well as considering the option of abandoning this private conversation to rejoin the party, but then Zen speaks again. 

“Of all the RFA members, who do _you_ think is most likely to be a vampire?”

“Vampires aren’t real,” Jumin tries to point out, but Zen is already waving that objection away.

“It’s just a mental exercise. Stop being a stick in the mud for two seconds, will you? Just answer the question. _If_ vampires are real, who in the RFA would you say was a vampire?”

“I--” Jumin cuts himself off, tries to take the question at face value like Zen seems to want. It’s hard to get past the inherent ridiculousness of the concept. He’s not exactly an expert on stories of the supernatural, and he doesn’t know why Zen seems to suddenly care about this, but he knows from the expectant way that Zen is looking at him that there’s a right answer here. And if there’s a right answer, then Jumin doesn’t want to give the wrong answer. 

He thinks for a moment. What does Zen want to hear? The cultural stereotype of vampires, as Jumin understands it, is that they are powerful and mysterious, strong and bewitching and perhaps emotionally distant. Assistant Kang had argued earlier that Jumin’s powerful position within the company made him a likely candidate, so perhaps vampires were supposed to be rich? If that was the case, no one else within the RFA matched the stereotype as well as Jumin, but saying that would surely enrage Zen.

Yoosung was the opposite of all the stereotypes Jumin was imagining; and while Jumin could see how Assistant Kang could be aloof and mysterious in her own way, he had to agree with Yoosung’s assessment that a vampire would probably not be employed as an assistant. Seven was certainly mysterious and possibly had a certain kind of power, but a vampire probably wouldn’t be so fond of honey buddha chips or PhD Pepper. 

V could be a vampire, Jumin realizes. No one has seen V for many months now, so a reveal that he was some supernatural creature would make a certain kind of troubling sense. This is an unhappy line of thought that pulls at Jumin’s heart, but perhaps it’s true that Jumin’s oldest friend could turn out to be a creature of the night, and Jumin wouldn’t even necessarily be the first to know. 

“V,” Jumin says. “If I’m forced to pretend that vampires could be real and that one of the RFA members could be one, I’d say that the likeliest option is V.”

It’s the wrong answer. Zen’s face clouds over and suddenly he’s right there, just a few scant inches in front of Jumin, using the slight advantage of his height to glare down at Jumin. “Whatever! V hasn’t been around for months and he couldn’t even make it to this party. You’re full of shit, Jumin.”

“You asked for my analysis, I gave it.” Jumin stares up, refuses to show any sign of being physically intimidated. “Why are you upset?”

Zen leans forward further, reaching up to plant his hand on the wall of the house behind Jumin’s head. Jumin is reminded that Zen might be drunk--it’s unclear how many drinks he’s had, but there’s champagne on his breath. Jumin tries to take some deep, steadying breaths without being too obvious about it.

He can still hear sounds from within the party, notes of music and laughter and the chatter of different voices coming together. Behind Zen, the moon is slightly visible, half-obscured by clouds. It’s not quite a full moon, and for an absurd moment Jumin’s mind flashes on werewolves, not vampires. He’s had a couple of glasses of wine himself.

“You think you know everything! You’re so damn confident in your opinions and your decisions, you’d never admit to being wrong, not even when the right answer is staring you in the face. That’s why I’m upset,” Zen says, and it takes until the last few words for Jumin to realize that Zen was answering his question, rather than just going off on an unrelated recitation of what he perceives to be Jumin’s flaws.

“You think I’m always confident in my opinions and analysis, that I think I’m always right--why? Because I don’t question myself to _you?_ Why would I do that and open myself up to your criticisms? Why would I invite the opinion of someone who’s never been fair to me?”

Jumin hadn’t intended to say so much or raise his voice. He presses his lips together, wills his heart rate to calm down. He’s never had this kind of face-to-face confrontation with Zen; it’s always been harsh words exchanged in the chat room: furiously typing on his phone in between meetings, feeling slightly nauseous and tasting acid while Zen’s words seemed simultaneously close enough to bite away at Jumin’s walls and his rules and mockingly distant, words on a screen that were difficult to incorporate with the reality of a work day. 

Jumin doesn’t feel nauseous now. Instead it’s almost like being lit on fire.

“Never been fair! You’re so arrogant that you think if someone disapproves, it must mean they’re not being fair.” Zen’s eyes narrow, and there’s the flare of his nostrils again. Jumin wants to tell him that it’s unattractive, even though going after Zen’s looks has always been the lowest-hanging fruit, too easy. “It’s not being _unfair_ if I just think you happen to be wrong, dude. You’re wrong because you’ve got V blinders on, you always think of him first even though he’s barely even in the RFA these days.”

Jumin takes in the comment about V, does his best to slide it off to the side of his brain to examine later. There isn’t room to let in those bruises right now, he’ll just be distracted. He shakes his head and focuses. “Why do you care about this?”

Abruptly, Zen’s whole demeanor shifts. He stops leaning his whole weight against the wall, takes his hand down and steps back, giving Jumin space. His eyes cut to the side, shifty and almost panicked, like he’s done something wrong. Christ, he’s so transparent, like it never occurs to him that it could be an advantage to not immediately express every emotion he feels. 

“I don’t,” Zen says. “It’s just the principle of the thing! But who cares about some stupid vampire rumor.”

“You care. You’re upset that I said V instead of you.” Jumin realizes the truth of this statement as it’s coming out of his mouth, relishes the satisfaction of the correct conclusion clicking in his mind when before it had been elusive. “Why do you want me to think you’re a vampire?”

_”I don’t want anyone to think I’m a vampire._ ” Zen makes eye contact again, startlingly vehement. He seems to realize his unintentional intensity and visibly draws himself back, crossing his arms over his chest and trying (failing) for nonchalance. 

Jumin can feel the way the charge in the air between them has shifted, can feel that he’s now the one who has the upper hand in this conversation. It would be a lie to claim he didn’t find it gratifying. He takes a step forward, and hesitates for a split second before taking another step, invading Zen’s personal space the way Zen had just invaded his. It’s not something he would usually allow himself to do, but there is a thread here that he very much wants to follow.

“Then why accuse me of some kind of favoritism of V over you? Why care about my assessment at all?”

That seems to rally Zen, to piss him off instead of continuing to make him flustered and unbalanced. His shoulders stiffen and he glares, not giving any ground. “You’re such a jerk. What, you can’t handle someone telling you you’re hung up on V?”    
“You’re deflecting.” Damn Zen for knowing what buttons to push. ‘Hung up on V’ is a hard thought to file away for later instead of reacting to in the moment, but Jumin won’t be distracted. “Is it that you want to embody a certain vampire stereotype? You want that kind of image? I think you’re a little too hot-headed for it.”

Zen laughs, a deep, almost vicious sound that doesn’t make him sound like himself at all. Later, Jumin will think that he should have taken the uncharacteristic laugh as some kind of warning. “Is that what you think? God, you piss me off.” 

Jumin doesn’t get the chance to respond before Zen grabs him by the lapels, yanking him closer. It’s a strong grip, strong enough to be alarming--Jumin couldn’t keep himself from stumbling forward even if he wanted to. He finds himself staring up into Zen’s furious eyes with only inches between them, and for a moment Jumin thinks he’s about to be kissed. But of course it doesn’t happen that way.

Instead Zen opens his mouth and his lip curls up, baring his teeth. His teeth are as white as you’d expect from an actor and a model, with the little available light out here glinting off of them. Then Jumin sees what Zen had wanted to show him: the points of two of his teeth growing, elongating into points, becoming fangs. Even in the moonlight, it’s unmistakeable. 

Jumin does not know what to say. He does not even breathe. 

Zen keeps Jumin there, up in his face and off-balance enough that only the balls of Jumin’s feet can touch the ground, for several long and silent seconds. Making sure that the threat, the reality, sinks in. Then he releases Jumin and steps back, the sense of physical danger gone as quickly as it had materialized. “Like I told you. You were wrong.”

“Vampires are real.” Jumin can hear the shaken edge in his own voice, but surely it’s forgivable considering that his entire understanding of what’s possible in this world has been irrevocably altered. “Vampires are real, and you are one.”

“Yeah.” Zen shrugs one shoulder, no longer making eye contact. He looks uncomfortable again, which Jumin would probably take more note of if he weren’t, well. Yoosung would probably say he’s freaking out.

“Your fast healing abilities. The psychic dreams. Your--” Jumin swallows. “Your unnatural strength. I understand now.”

Zen looks at him, eyes intent. “You understand.”

It now makes perfect sense why Zen felt insulted that no one seemed to associate him with vampirism. Zen is prideful, and unlike Jumin he cares about how people perceive him, about the other members of the RFA knowing him well. 

“Does anyone else know?”

Zen winces. “No. I--I shouldn’t have told you.” 

Jumin has so many questions pressing against his teeth, but he stays quiet. He’s not sure what he should do here. He is under no illusions that Zen showed him out of any great trust or intimacy between them. It was a mistake, it came from Zen losing his temper. Jumin knows that he could use this, that he could rub Zen’s mistake in his face or lord it over him that now he knows, now he has this certain kind of power. But he doesn’t want to, and not just because he remembers the strength in Zen’s grip and how sharp his teeth looked. 

Zen rarely gives Jumin the opportunity to be a friend to him, and this opportunity wasn’t given deliberately. But Jumin still wants to say the right thing.

“You do not have to worry that I’ll tell anyone else,” Jumin says slowly, cautious. This seems to reassure Zen. His shoulders relax somewhat and he lets out a breath. 

“...yeah, good.” The gratitude is grudging, but at least it seems to slightly exist. Zen crosses his arms again, letting out another shaky breath, and Jumin should stop paying such close attention to the rise and fall of his chest. 

Jumin finds himself crossing his arms as well, and now they are both standing here with awkward body language, avoiding eye contact. As if something more embarrassing than one man revealing his supernatural identity to another man has occurred. 

“I know I should have just been relieved that people thought you were a vampire instead of me,” Zen says, sudden. “It’s a good thing if no one suspects me! But tonight it just, gah…. That Seven, he’s so irritating sometimes.”

“That’s very true. Do you think…” Expressing this thought could be a bad idea, but Jumin hopes the consequences won’t be too awful. “Did it make you so angry because it involved me?” 

As expected, Zen bristles, his expression going sullen. “No! I don’t know. Maybe.” He huffs and crosses the balcony to its edge, leaning over the balustrade. Jumin joins him, the sounds of the party growing even more distant. It’s easy to believe that they’re truly alone, and even better, that Zen wants them to be alone.

“You do make me angrier than most people,” Zen admits. 

“I know,” Jumin says, and he bites his tongue against going into more detail about how undeniable that statement is. Zen gives him a look like he heard it anyway.

“It’s because you’re such a jerk,” Zen says, annoyance edging its way back into his voice. 

It is quite the effort to hold back his defensiveness, to not get into another fight. Jumin can feel the corners of his mouth turning down and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly before opening them and facing Zen again. “Yes. I know your opinion of me.”

Zen makes a disgruntled noise, looking back over the view of the venue’s courtyard. This place is ideal for the party, a hotel with grandiose intentions and well-maintained gardens and walkways in the back. “You say that as if your opinion of _me_ isn’t just as bad.”

Jumin blinks. “But it isn’t.” Zen makes some loud noises of disbelief, but Jumin talks over him. “It _isn’t._ Of course I can’t just rise above every fight you choose to pick with me and I can’t just wholly admire someone who has a problem with everything I say or do. But my only real problem with you is the problems you have with me.”

Zen opens his mouth and shuts it, like he’s not sure what to say. Then he seems to find a verbal tactic to lean into, narrowing his eyes and jabbing his finger at Jumin’s chest. The impulse to grab Zen’s finger and then his hand flits across Jumin’s mind, but he ignores it. “Yeah? You don’t have a problem with me being a vampire?”

“Why would I? Do you kill people?”

“No, not since high school.”

That’s a slightly disturbing answer and also ignites Jumin’s curiosity, but he can let it go for now. “Then why would I have a problem with it.”

Zen seems skeptical. “But don’t you have other questions? How can you just be so accepting?”

“Of course I’m curious, but you haven’t volunteered any information. I assumed you would just tell me what you felt comfortable telling me.”

“Huh.” Zen drums his fingers on the balcony railing. The quiet gives Jumin too long to notice things like his hair looking silver in the light, or the line of his neck and the breadth of his shoulders. Vividly Jumin is rushed with the memory of Zen grabbing him and holding him almost up off the ground. Jumin knows from unfortunate experience that he won’t be able to keep the memory from floating to the surface the next time he touches himself. Even now, it’s enough to make his cheeks feel hot and he has to turn so that his body faces the railing, not Zen. He knows the movement is abrupt and he hopes he’s not too obvious. 

But perhaps he is, because now Zen’s hand is on his elbow, trying to nudge Jumin to face him. Jumin knows now that Zen has the strength to force Jumin to turn if he wanted to, and dammit, that thought just furthers the uncomfortably tight situation in his pants. 

But he turns, at least enough for Zen to look him in the eye. Zen looks oddly solemn, and when he says, “Thank you,” it feels heavier than perhaps it should.

“I--” Jumin needs to remove himself from this situation. Things have shifted once again so that he is the disempowered one here, whether or not Zen realizes this currently. “Yes, of course.”

Zen licks his lips, and for all of Zen’s bluster about charming women and sweeping them off their feet, Jumin suspects he has no idea what kind of effect he has on people without even trying. Jumin doubts, very much, that Zen realizes in this moment that he has Jumin in the palm of his hand; that Jumin is prepared to give him everything, not that it feels like much of a choice.

“You’re turned on right now,” Zen says, his voice low, and it’s like a bucket of ice water. All right, so Jumin was dead wrong, so Zen is well aware, so he’s made a fool of himself.

Jumin yanks his arm out of Zen’s grip and his step back shamefully turns into more of a stumble in his haste. “I need to go.”

But before he can get back to the party, Zen has him by the shoulders, and he’s not bothering to hold back any of that strength now--it would be pointless for Jumin to struggle, although he still desperately wants to. Every instinct he has is screaming at him to get _away_ and he’s never felt more mortified in his whole life.

“Calm down, will you? Vampires have heightened senses so I could hear your heart rate, it’s nothing to be ashamed of! Besides, why did you think I brought it up, to make fun of you?”

“Yes,” Jumin says emphatically, the honest answer slipping out before he can think better of it. If Zen can hear his heart rate, he must be able to hear how badly Jumin is panicking right now, because his heart feels like it’s trying to burst through his ribcage.

Zen frowns. “Jerk. Even I don’t hate you that much. No, I just meant--if you’re attracted to me, then it means--I don’t know--” Zen seems to be floundering to find his point, and Jumin can’t help him out because he can’t form coherent thoughts right now. But then it ceases to matter, because Zen gets a determined look on his face and then Jumin is being kissed.

It takes Jumin several long moments to make sense of this new configuration. Thankfully his lips don’t seem to be waiting for directions because he’s already kissing back even as his brain struggles to catch up. Zen makes several soft, intimate noises during the kiss and presses in to Jumin, which just makes Jumin’s erection worse. He tries to keep his hips angled away and then realizes that he hasn’t done anything with his arms, and he must be coming across as very stiff. He puts his hands on Zen’s shoulders which Zen seems to take as an invitation to crowd in even more, until Zen has Jumin bent almost halfway over the balcony.

When the kiss finally ends, Jumin feels like Zen has turned him into a woman on the cover of a cheap romance novel. It’s not pleasant, to know he has swooned.

“Damn.” Zen’s voice is a little shaky, but he’s smiling. There’s a red tint to his cheeks, too, which just makes his eyes and the color of his lips stand out more. His lips are wet. Jumin wants to reach up and touch the spit on Zen’s lip with his thumb, an urge so vivid that his wrist jerks.

Jumin has kissed people before. One or two women, once or twice each. He has never _been_ kissed, and certainly not like this.

“Wow,” Zen says, another useless word that tells Jumin nothing. Zen reaches up and presses his hand against Jumin’s heart, and raises his eyebrow. Jumin’s damn pulse again. “Are you okay?”

Jumin shakes his head. He doesn’t really intend it to mean ‘no,’ it simply feels like all he’s capable of. “What are you doing?”

“Uh…. making out? I guess?” Zen’s arms are still around Jumin, and Jumin knows he couldn’t get out if he wanted to, which is perhaps why he wants to. Or perhaps because this doesn’t fit with any logical explanation and is therefore making Jumin panic, the feeling manifest in a throbbing pain just now starting in his head.

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand you.”

Once again, Jumin has said the wrong thing, although in this case it gets him what he wants, which is Zen blinking and letting him go and taking a step back. But Zen is flitting through emotions so quickly, and this is something that Jumin has always been simultaneously fascinated and repelled by: the intensity with which Zen seems to feel things, matched with the quickness of his emotions. There doesn’t seem to be any connection between the length of time of one of Zen’s feelings and the depth to which he feels it. 

Now, Jumin watches as Zen swiftly moves through surprised, confused, incredulous, hurt, before finally landing on anger, the most familiar territory between them. Jumin considers how Zen had shifted towards him earlier when Jumin had told him he understood, and can see now how predictable it is that Zen would turn on him again upon hearing that statement redacted.

Jumin is braced for Zen to say something horrible, from the look on his face, but he just presses his lips tightly together for a moment and then blows out a breath, giving his head a vicious shake that makes his ponytail swing. “It was just an impulse, dude. And I don’t think you’d get it if I tried to explain.” His eyes slide to the right, and Jumin would probably regret what he’d said to make Zen close off like this if he weren’t still so shaken. “We should get back to the party.”

“All right,” Jumin says, and he can hear how the hollow feeling in his chest is reflected in his voice. He feels strangely outside himself as he pushes off the balcony, a few steps behind Zen as they head back inside.

But in the threshold, close enough to the celebration inside that his face is illuminated by the golden artificial lighting, Zen hesitates. He turns to address Jumin over his shoulder, and his voice is friendly enough.

“I didn’t hate that, though. And neither did you. So I guess…. The door could be open. If you’re curious.”

And then Zen walks inside, and Jumin stands there, without any idea of what he should think.


End file.
